


In Which Adam And Fergus Come To Multiple Understandings

by Adam_n_Ferg_are_not_straight



Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Adam, Explicit Language, Fergus cannot look after themself, His house is a tip, Homophobia, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, This will get more angsty, Transphobia, Yeah no it is angsty, but he's closeted so, he/they fergus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:33:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29472516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adam_n_Ferg_are_not_straight/pseuds/Adam_n_Ferg_are_not_straight
Summary: “Well m’hardly making you.” Was all Fergus said in response, absentmindedly sucking through the ‘straw’. “You choose to be here. I’m beginning to think you fancy me.”With rather remarkable speed, Adam found himself turning away from him. His cheeks had gone rather warm but… no. He definitely would not admit to fancying him. Not on that day. That would ruin everything they had with each other, and he didn’t want to lose another friend. So instead, Adam resigned to just nervously laughing.
Relationships: Adam Kenyon/Fergus Williams
Comments: 5
Kudos: 14





	In Which Adam And Fergus Come To Multiple Understandings

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is gonna be a multi chapter fic, so I hope you stick around to find out what happens. The first chapter isn't too angsty, but poof and queer are used once or twice. It will get more angsty, and this chapter will be followed with topics such as drugs, death, self harm, suicide, alcoholism, and other topics. Don't worry! It will all end up okay in due course xx
> 
> Comments are deeply appreciated.

Adam was used to cleaning up Fergus’ messes for him - and not just at work. If you were to go round Fergus’ flat on a Saturday afternoon, Adam would likely be there too, tidying his living room, or perhaps preparing dinner. All sorts of sounds would creep out from the slightly opened windows, but usually, the sounds of work were drowned out by some sort of music. Sometimes Blur, maybe Suede, sometimes The Damned, and in very specific circumstances, somehow Darren Hayman’s ‘Eastbourne Lights’ would be heard, the melancholic tones muffled by the busy street below. An outsider would assume that they were living in domestic bliss. An insider would know that Fergus Williams was utterly incapable of looking after himself. 

Adam was very aware of this. If it weren’t for him, Fergus would probably be buried a few feet in fuck knows what. There was one instance in which Adam had found some mouldy something in a tin. It would have been almost excusable if the tin hadn’t been in Fergus’ sock drawer. It was a rather grim discovery, and frankly he felt rather green after finding it. It was things like ‘The Incident’ as it was known around most of DoSAC that led Adam back to Fergus every Saturday. He could have been watching the bloody cricket, but no, he was ever so slightly too in love with his best mate and boss for that. Any excuse to be with Ferg was taken up eagerly.

That was exactly why Adam was there in the middle of June, pretending to find Fergus’ jokes hysterical, whilst watching him drink water through a straw made from pasta. Apparently, it was easier than buying more. Not that he needed straws. Fergus was, in fact, the only adult Adam had ever seen use a straw. It was rather cute though.

“Fergus, mate, you can’t keep making me do this…. I’ve seen things that would scar most people in this bloody house.”

“Well m’hardly making you.” Was all Fergus said in response, absentmindedly sucking through the ‘straw’. “You choose to be here. I’m beginning to think you fancy me.”

With rather remarkable speed, Adam found himself turning away from him. His cheeks had gone rather warm but… no. He definitely would not admit to fancying him. Not on that day. That would ruin everything they had with each other, and he didn’t want to lose another friend. So instead, Adam resigned to just nervously laughing.

“You know that makes you a bit of a queer? You’d probably like that, you poof.” It was lighthearted, but still, Adam found it hard to say those words. It hurt, to hear himself say it. He really couldn’t let anyone know he was bi, let alone his bloody boss of all people, so perhaps if he toned up the homophobia nothing would seem too off. Ah well. If he was able to protect himself from a broken heart, he would do just about anything. Fergus hadn’t reacted either, so he had likely just taken it as somewhat friendly banter. Probably for the best. 

Fergus was still just sucking on pasta, and stared off into the distance. Perhaps he hadn’t even heard Adam’s little quip. If only Fergus was gay. Even if that had been the case, Adam sincerely doubted that he would be Fergus’ type. Something inside of him was telling him to say it again. Call him a poof. Just get under his skin. Just so he could know. It was an awful awful thought, but, at that moment in time, deeply, deeply tempting. He shouldn’t though. It would end badly either way. Instead, he busied himself with the washing up. Some of the plates looked like they’d been stained for years, even though Adam was fairly certain he had, in fact, washed them only a week before.

It took him 20 minutes to realise he was washing the same plate over and over. He had been rather lost in thought about Fergus. He loved him. He really did. And he’d just called the man he loved a poof. That wasn’t on. It took another 20 minutes to realise that Fergus wasn’t standing on the other side of the kitchen anymore. He had gone off somewhere else, it seemed. Adam thought that to be fair enough. Not many people would want to spend time with him. He was a bastard afterall. But that was more or less when it hit him. Perhaps what he’d said had upset Fergus.

Looking back on it, that wouldn’t have been the first time. Once, he’d called Fergus a fucking tranny. That had upset him. Adam hadn’t worked out why yet either. Maybe he was just sensitive. Still, they were mates, and mates were meant to look out for each other. And actually, the homophobia had been rather uncalled for. When he did it, he had only been thinking about himself, and how to get himself out of a situation that he deemed tricky. Falling back to the tactics he’d used at the Mail was never a good idea.

There were plenty of things he wrote at the Mail that he wished hadn’t come from him. He hardly believed anything he wrote, he just needed the money. He wasn’t really xenophobic, or transphobic, or homophobic. Just a bit poor, and in need of some cash. He wrote whatever would get a reaction, whatever would stir the British public, whatever would get him paid. Even if it did make him seem like a bigot. As long as he didn’t really believe what he wrote, he wasn’t a bigot. It’s not like anyone believed the mail anyway…. Apart from racists, and homophobes, and bigots. Perhaps Adam was like them then, considering he had somewhat willingly associated himself with what was possibly the most Tory paper in Britain. The thought sickened him, almost as much as the mouldy tin of something had. Christ, he really was just as bad as them. 

The thing is, he was an opportunist. That was obvious, to both him and Fergus, especially considering his track record of slightly morally copious jobs. The only reason he had worked at the Mail was for money. He hadn’t been greatly surprised when they fired him, not for incompetence, but more for his total lack of interest in anything other than the money, and his exceedingly lazy attitude to it all once he had been promoted to the night editor. It was his own fault for taking the night shift, and sleeping through it. After the Mail, Fergus had come to him, offering him a job as a special adviser. Adam wasn’t fond of the Lib Dems, but Fergus was attractive, and the pay was good, so he took it. Certainly an opportunist. He had been rather glad when he was offered the job.

Ah shit, that was it. He was meant to be looking for Fergus.


End file.
